


Accidents Happen

by thedevilchicken



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24706249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Jaskier gets into a spot of bother with a number of unruly alphas (who he could have dealt with himself very capably, thank you very much). Geralt comes to his rescue.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 241
Collections: Heat Fic Summer 2020





	Accidents Happen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Plaid_Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/gifts).



Jaskier hasn't always made great choices in life. He's usually the first to admit that, and not just so that Geralt can't make one of those not-so-subtle faces that admit it for him - he doesn't actually mind that he sails a bit close to the wind sometimes, and he doesn't actually mind that it sometimes ends in complete disaster, because at least that means his life's not boring. You could call him a lot of things, he thinks, and you'd probably be right, but _boring_ isn't one of them.

So, well: he hasn't always made fantastic choices. Continuing to work when he knew he was due to go into heat at any moment wasn't precisely the best of them, but the money was just too good to say no to. And really, who could have expected that the small town had that many unbonded alphas residing in it? It came as a surprise to him, at the very least. It was a lot like they'd had an overabundance of their own to start with and then recruited from the surrounding countryside on top. How they weren't brawling in the streets every time an omega walked by was one of life's little mysteries, or maybe they actually were and he'd just missed that part.

Still, the pay was good and the guests all liked a singalong, and aside from an occasional blunt proposition from the occasional pushy alpha, it was really a very pleasant evening's work. As soon as the event was finished, though, he made a beeline for the rather terrible inn where he was staying and ordered himself a good stiff drink at the bar downstairs. He hadn't drunk anything near as much as he'd have liked to at the local lord's semi-fancy manor house - he'd seen fancier, but having played parties for royalty did usually trump small towns on the way to Toussaint, even if their good wine was so delightfully cheap in comparison. And, unfortunately, he was so damned engaged with his liquor that he didn't notice a full third of the alphas whose advances he'd politely declined wandering in a just few minutes after him. 

"We've made a bet," one of them said, as he slipped onto the stool beside Jaskier. 

Jaskier grimaced. "I'm sorry but if you're hoping I'll ask you what it was, I really don't care," he replied. "I thought I made that quite clear at the party."

"We're betting you're unbonded," another one said. He leaned on the bar by Jaskier's elbow, crowding him awkwardly. He might have been well-dressed, but Jaskier couldn't help but think that really didn't make up for his complete lack of manners. "We're betting if we wait a day or so, one of us can have you. You won't be able to stop yourself. Mostly, we're betting on which one of us it'll be."

Jaskier sighed. He finished off his drink in one well-practiced gulp and motioned to the wary, weary bartender for another. "I can assure you it won't be any of you," he said. "Look, I'm sure you're all charming in your own special way but the fact is, lack of control is really just a fairytale that alphas like to tell themselves." He looked them over, up and down, their obnoxious group of six obnoxious alphas. "Yes, fine, you're not exactly _un_ attractive. But trust me, I can resist you. And besides which, I'm spoken for." 

"You're alone. You expect us to believe that?"

"Yes. More or less, yes." The first one scoffed. The second one smirked. The rest of them tittered like little chattering birds. Jaskier sighed and played with his newly-refilled cup, wondering whether he preferred the idea of drinking it or tipping it over an uncouth alpha's head; he opted for drinking. "Fine. What can I do to convince you?"

"Well, not having come alone would've helped."

"And who says he's alone?"

Geralt has always had a habit of picking his moments. They're not always the best ones, and they're not always the most dramatic ones, but he does seem to pick them nonetheless; they're even _mostly_ helpful, Jaskier has to admit. Like when he lost track of the date and went into heat in the middle of a tournament and Geralt showed up to guard his tent for nearly three days straight - it might have been a little awkward for them both, Jaskier taking the situation in hand while Geralt was just a flimsy flap of tarpaulin away, but he supposes they've both done stranger things. Or the time Geralt arrived an inconvenient half day after Jaskier had sprained his ankle somewhere between towns and then actually let him ride on Roach for once - he'd been expecting yet another bout of heat in four days' time or so, so hobbling around the countryside and attracting trolls in the middle of a wood hadn't been high on his agenda. 

This moment, however, Jaskier, had to admit was both wonderfully well-timed and perfectly dramatic. He removed himself from his dark corner where he'd evidently been drinking alone - Jaskier really had to talk to him about how sad that looked at some point, he thought - and came closer. The alphas' eyes all turned to him, like something from a terrible puppet show he'd seen on the way to Cintra once. 

"So you expect us to leave him alone because he's got a witcher for a bodyguard?" the first belligerent alpha said. 

"What if I said I expect you to leave me alone because it's the decent thing to do?" Jaskier replied. 

Geralt gave him a look that said, _Jaskier, has that ever worked?_ The alphas gave him a look that said, _That's never going to work in a million years._ He threw his hands up. He threw his drink back. He motioned for another. 

"What if I said I expect you to leave him alone because he's mine?" Geralt said, and Jaskier came very close to choking on his drink. He'd have been much better off soaking someone's groin in it and threatening to set fire to their wayward genitalia than coughing it over a combination of himself and the bar, but sometimes the choice just isn't yours to make.

Geralt rested one large hand on Jaskier's shoulder. He moved in close behind him. Jaskier could feel how warm he was, which was roughly as warm as his own cheeks were, given Geralt had just claimed ownership of him in front of a tavern full of strangers. Then Geralt's hand moved up, and it moved forward, and his fingers spread over Jaskier's throat. He rested his head back against Geralt's chest behind him, took a breath and let his eyes drift closed. And either the two of them were convincing about it or else Geralt did something threatening with his free hand, or something menacing with his face, because the alphas grumbled like a bunch of sulky children and then retreated from the tavern. 

"You know, you didn't have to do that," Jaskier said, once Geralt had stepped back then sat down next to him. But he could still feel the heat of his hand at his throat. His cheeks were still warm with what he'd said. And maybe he was put out that Geralt had rescued him when he was perfectly capable of rescuing himself, thank you very much. Still, at least he hadn't had to fight, he supposed. He really didn't want to break another lute and he wasn't a big fan of running when it wasn't strictly necessary. His trousers were usually a bit on the tight side for that and he didn't relish the thought of chafing.

Geralt looked at him, sideways, just for a second. Then he stole what little remained of Jaskier's drink and drank it. "No," he agreed. "I didn't have to do that." 

"Then why did you?" Geralt glanced at him again but he didn't reply. Jaskier frowned. "Geralt, are you even actually an alpha? I've known you for what seems like basically forever and I don't think I've ever heard you say you're anything. Except a witcher, but I don't think that's exactly the same thing."

Geralt did a thing with his face that was part frown and part grimace. He did it so hard that his teeth showed, and he caught the tip of his tongue between them as he looked at Jaskier. "Yes, I'm an alpha," he said, like there'd never been any question of it.

Jaskier gestured at him. "So, dashing silver-haired fellow like yourself, genial, sunny disposition...why don't you have an omega?"

Geralt turned to him. He turned his whole body, resting one arm on the bar, and he raised his eyebrows at him meaningfully. The look on his face said, _Is this a joke or have you not been paying attention?_ The look on his face said, _You're a complete fucking idiot; what have I done?_

"I have one," Geralt said. And the look on his face said, _But it might be better if I hadn't._

Jaskier's eyes widened. "Oh!" he said. "Oh, right. Well, that makes sense." Because honestly, he supposed it did. All the times he'd fucked off into the forest to find helpful herbs. All those years of miraculous appearances just in the nick of time, like he'd known exactly where he was. Turned out he had. 

He stood up and he turned, which put him squarely in front of Geralt, standing right between his thighs. He rested his hands on Geralt's knees and then, when he slipped them higher, he found Geralt didn't protest the way he'd always thought he would.

"You know, you could have said something," Jaskier said. 

"I'm saying something now," Geralt replied. 

And maybe Jaskier said something cutting about how Geralt wasn't saying very much at all, and maybe Geralt screwed his face up like he'd stepped in something squishy in response. But the point was: they left the tavern's bar together and they went upstairs to Jaskier's room. As it happened, Geralt was right; it turned out that at some point over the previous years, they'd managed to bond without really meaning to. It turned out that just made it better. 

Jaskier hasn't always made great choices. He's done some things that don't exactly make him proud, though he can't claim he necessarily regrets them. He's gone places and he's said things and he's had too much to drink and said even more, and he's got himself into trouble more than once. More than twice. More than he could count on all his fingers and toes combined, if he's honest about it, and he'd probably have to borrow Geralt's, too, if he wanted to get close to the right number. 

He hasn't always made great choices. And there's been a few times over the years when he's wondered if sticking with Geralt was a good one or a bad one. 

This morning, they leave town together. It's too early in the day for Jaskier's taste, but it's probably for the best; coming there wasn't the best choice he's ever made in the first place. 

Except Geralt looks at him, sideways, from Roach's saddle. And Jaskier thinks maybe, just maybe, coming here was the best choice he's ever made.


End file.
